First Valentine's Day and Night Together
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: Mycroft wants Sherlock's and Molly's help to plan a surprise Valentine's evening for himself and Lady Smallwood. Sherlock is happy to accommodate him, he has his own special plans for an unforgettable, romantic Valentine's Day and night with his wife. Very sensual, but not explicit.
1. A Valentine's Day Request from Mycroft

Sherlock and Molly were having a quiet evening in, when the doorbell rang. Neither of them bothered to answer it, as they weren't expecting company. Besides, Mrs. Hudson seemed to enjoy knowing who was coming for a visit, so she liked opening the outer door, despite her half-hearted complaints to Sherlock. He had deduced long ago that his landlady didn't actually mind doubling as the door lady.

A tread sounded on the stairs and Sherlock looked at Molly in surprise. "I wonder what Mycroft is doing here? He usually at least texts first."

Molly shrugged. "I guess we'll find out soon enough." She went to the door and opened it just as Mycroft reached the landing. "Hi Mycroft. What brings you by this evening?"

Instead of answering her question, Mycroft said, "Hello Molly. How are things proceeding with your pregnancy?"

Molly beamed at him. "Very well, although I'm starting to find myself tiring easier these days."

"I hope you are not working too hard," he responded in some concern.

Molly was surprised and rather touched by her brother-in-law's comment. He had softened a lot over the past few months. At Christmas time he had even pocketed a discarded bra of hers from the sitting room of his parents' house, when the family had been together at Christmas. He had handed it to Sherlock on the morning after Christmas, saying he was keeping it safe for them so the Holmes parents wouldn't see it. That had been a little enbarrassing, but his heart had been in the right place.

Molly didn't think the Holmes parents would have been too scandalized by the bra. After all, she and Sherlock had only been married a few months, but Sherlock certainly appreciated the gesture. He had no qualms about letting his brother know of his newfound sexual prowess, but when it came to his parents, he was a little more circumspect. He continued to have a complex about the thought of his parents ever being intimate, or of them knowing that he was, heaven forbid, having sex. It was rather ridiculous, considering the ever expanding girth of Molly's belly, which made their intimate life rather obvious.

Sherlock walked towards his brother, saying, "Are you deliberately trying to avoid Molly's question? What's up? Do you need me to take Mummy and Daddy off your hands again? Last time we spoke, they didn't say they were coming to London in the near future."

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Yes, well, actually I was hoping to solicit some help from the two of you."

"Why don't we go and sit down?" suggested Molly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be good. My throat seems rather parched, as it happens."

"You too, Sherlock?"

He nodded.

Molly set about making the tea, while Mycroft sat in an armchair (not Sherlock's of course), so that the couple would be able to sit together.

When the tea was ready Molly handed one to Mycroft and another to Sherlock, then fetched her own, settling in comfortably beside her husband on the sofa.

After several minutes silently sipping their tea, Sherlock finally asked, " Well, Mycroft, this is your party. What did you want?"

Mycroft cleared his throat nervously. "Actually I was hoping to solicit your help. It seems your recent transformation has caused me to reevaluate my own ideas on sentiment. As you know I have been seeing Lady Elizabeth Smallwood for over a year now. In the beginning it was just like my other liaisons, pleasant, but with no unnecessary sentiment. Since Christmas however, I have been reevaluating my relationship with her. I have come to the conclusion that I am a better man when I'm with her, and I can see us having a future together on a more permanent basis."

Molly put her hands to her mouth. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Mycroft? Do you want to marry her?"

"I believe that would be the next logical step to take in our relationship," conceded Mycroft.

Molly could see that Sherlock was looking quite stunned. He had opened his mouth slightly, but seemed unable to speak, so she took the initiative.

"What can we do to help, Mycroft?" she asked.

"As you know, Valentine's Day is just around the corner, and I would like to take Elizabeth out to dinner. I was hoping the two of you would come along. I thought I might propose to her after dinner."

"Are you hoping that having us there will make her more likely to accept?" questioned Sherlock with a grin.

"Of course not" huffed his brother. " I just feel a need for - moral support."

"We should go to the Ritz," suggested Sherlock unexpectedly. "I was planning on taking you there anyway," he said looking at Molly. "It holds some very pleasant memories for me, as we spent our wedding night there." He gave her a meaningful look, and Molly couldn't help blushing at the shared memory of their first night together when they had made love three times. (Oh yes, waiting to be together had definitely been worth it.)

"It seems we have more in common than I thought, brother mine," commented Mycroft. "The Ritz happens to be one of my favorite places to spend an evening as well, and their restaurant is excellent."

"Have you bought a ring for Lady Smallwood?"asked Molly.

"Actually, I plan on using our grandmother's engagement ring. The centre stone is an emerald which is also Elizabeth's birthstone. Seeing as Sherlock did not want to use it for you, I thought it might be a nice gesture. It is a family heirloom, after all."

"I wanted to choose a ring for Molly myself, not use an old family heirloom," said Sherlock, crossing his arms defensively.

"I'm sure Mycroft meant no offence,"soothed Molly, placing a hand on Sherlock's arm.

Mycroft immediately spoke up. "Of course not, Sherlock. I merely meant the ring was available, so I decided to use it." Then his eyes widened suddenly as he noticed the engagement ring on Molly's finger. "Speaking of engagement rings, yours seems to have changed."

Molly laughed. "Sherlock bought me a ring enhancer for it last month," she explained.

"It is very nice indeed. Was it a special occasion?"

"Not really, just a sweet gesture. My husband is very good with surprises." Molly was not going to tell Mycroft about the little re-creation scenarios she and Sherlock had been doing over the past two months. Bad enough that Mrs. Hudson had happened to see the one when Sherlock had proposed to her again, having added the ring enhancer to her own engagement ring. What had happened later was a very nice memory.

Molly flushed slightly as she remembered. All their little re-creation scenarios were very nice memories, well more than nice, actually. Quite steamy really, because they always ended up in the bedroom, making passionate love afterwards.

Sherlock, evidently noticing the direction of her wandering thoughts asked, "Is that it then, Mycroft? Shall we meet at seven o'clock on Valentine's Day at the Ritz? I'll let you make the reservations."

He almost pushed his brother out the door, as Mycroft gave a rather disconcerted, "Oh yes, alright then," and left. Sherlock had not even allowed him to finish his tea

Sherlock shut the door firmly behind Mycroft and locked it.

"Sherlock! That was a bit.."

"Bit Not Good?" he supplied, casting her a seductive glance that made Molly's heart suddenly start to beat faster.

"I was going to say rude, but sane thing, I guess."

"He said what he came to say. I did not want to spend the entire evening entertaining my brother." Then he lowered his voice and said in his rich baritone, "I'd much rather be entertaining you."

"Maybe I don't want to be entertained," teased Molly.

"That's not true, and you know it. I saw the look in your eyes when you were talking about your ring enhancer. I know you were thinking about what came afterwards."

Molly flushed. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only to me," he assured her. "So yeah, about that entertainment…?"

"Uh, I need the loo," she hedged.

"No you don't," asserted her husband, stalking towards her like a predator, then putting his hands on her shoulders, kneading them gently. " You went just ten minutes before Mycroft got here."

"I did?"she asked, a little breathlessly. He was giving her that look, that one that turned her into a puddle of quivering jelly. "Oh yeah, I did." At this point in her pregnancy, Molly had started to run to the loo every time Sherlock made any insinuation of upcoming bedroom activity. Her bladder was not to be trusted, especially when he had this thing about taking his time with her before they proceeded to the "main event." Not that she was complaining, of course.

She had barely finished the words when Sherlock bent his head, and his lips were on hers. As always, he had the power to incapacitate her. She threw her arms around his neck and began to return his forceful kiss in equal measure. It was just as well that Sherlock had to bend to kiss her, because that meant the action gave a little extra room for her expanding middle.

He kissed her until she could feel that intense desire he always provoked with those wonderful lips. When Molly started clasping his neck tighter to support her trembling legs, Sherlock swept her off her feet and into his arms. Even with the extra fifteen pounds she was now carrying, he seemed to have no trouble, carrying her easily into the bedroom so they could finish what they'd started.

Afterwards, lying in his embrace, Molly asked, "Do you want to have dinner now?"

Sherlock buried his face in her hair and kissed her neck. "I thought we just did."

Molly giggled. "You're so silly, sweetheart. I mean food."

"I suppose."

They got out of bed and slipped on dressing gowns rather than putting their clothes back on. There were some leftovers in the fridge that Molly reheated, and as they waited, the couple discussed Mycroft.

"I have to say," admitted Sherlock, "my brother has also been making changes for the better over the last few months."

"I'm glad he has found somebody he genuinely cares for. It's just a shame that Lady Smallwood will not be able to give him children."

"I don't really see Mycroft as the paternal type."

"People would have said the same about you a few months ago, and look where you are now," Molly pointed out.

"Yes, but my capacity for emotions was always there, it was just supressed after Victor died. My brother has never been one to be overly sentimental about anyone or anything."

"It's funny," mused Molly. "I used to compare you to Sheldon Cooper, but actually I think Mycroft is more like him than you are."

"I was like him though. Funny that even Sheldon has evolved as a character to the point where he and Amy are now engaged."

"Speaking of engagement, I think we started a trend. First Kaitlyn, then Greg just a few days ago, and soon it will be your brother. With all the weddings in our future, and a baby as well, it's going to be a busy year!"

"It's still surreal to think that our little girl will be here in less than three months." He rubbed his wife's belly. "I wish we could see her."

"We might not be able to see her, but we can listen to her heartbeat, remember?" That baby Doppler monitor Mycroft had given them had come in handy. "I'll dish out the food while you get it, okay?"

Sherlock smiled. "Okay."

Once they had eaten their dinner, the couple went to the sofa. Molly loosened her dressing gown, exposing her abdomen, and together they listened with joy to the fast beat of their growing baby's heart. **_Mycroft might have his faults, but he was going to be a good uncle,_** Molly thought.

She was looking forward to Valentine's Day.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, what do you think about Mycroft's decision to tie the knot?

Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?

What does Sherlock have in mind, do you think? I hope you are looking forward to finding out!

Updated for corrections and better flow 6/27/18


	2. A Valentine's Day to Remember

While Molly was working on Valentine's Day, Sherlock was making his plans for the evening.

He had purchased a red maternity dress for Moll a few days earlier, without her knowledge. It was strapless and ended mid-calf. There was a cropped jacket with long sleeves that Molly would be able to wear over it. He had also bought two pairs of maternity tights. There was a pair of flat red slip-on shoes to finish the outfit.

Sherlock placed the whole ensemble on the bed. He added a red bow she could pin to her hair. Hopefully Molly would be okay with him planning things so intricately. He himself was planning to wear his black suit with a white shirt and a red tie.

Even before Mycroft had requested their help, Sherlock had been planning this night. Unbeknownst to Molly, he had booked the sane room they had used on their wedding night in August. In fact, he had been so worried that the room might not be available for Valentine's Day, he had booked it for both nights at the same time.

After the dinner, Sherlock planned to take his wife to the room and re-create, in a sense, their wedding night. Molly loved those re-creations, not that this particular memory needed to be "re-written" like some of the previous ones. He just wanted to make it a very special night for them both, and re-live the perfection that had been their wedding night, the night they had first made love.

With six months of marriage and a lot of "practice," the sleuth was sure he could make this night even more spectacular. After all, he knew now what areas of Molly's body were most sensitive, and she knew his.

Yes, tonight might be a special night for Mycroft and his lady, but it was going to be just as special for Molly and himself.

Sherlock also had a plan which required the red dress. On their wedding night, the pair of them had danced to "A Thousand Years," by Christina Perry. Molly had played the music to "get them in the mood," as she'd said. Not that it had been necessary, Sherlock had been in the mood from the moment his bride walked down the aisle to him, almost stopping his heart with her radiance and beauty.

Tonight he had another song to play, a very old one by Chris de Burgh called "The Lady in Red." The lyrics were very romantic, and he was sure Molly would appreciate them. He even knew the lyrics and wanted to sing them softly into her ear, the way she had sung to him.

Without Molly's knowledge, Sherlock had called the hospital and spoken to Mike Stamford. He had asked Mike to give Molly the day after Valentine's Day off. Mike had always been happy to accommodate Sherlock's requests, as he always felt Sherlock was the reason he had gotten together with Emily, his wife.

* * *

As soon as Molly got home from work, Sherlock urged her to take her shower immediately. He would have joined her, but whenever he did that, it always led to...other things. There would be plenty of time for that once they reached the hotel room. Therefore, he opted to let her shower alone, and he would take his while she dressed.

He was rather startled, but very appreciative when Molly exited the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her...head. Little temptress she was! Her body still had droplets of water sparkling on her bare skin, and he took note of the fact that her abdomen was getting bigger all the time. Her belly button was on its way to becoming an "outie" rather than an "innie" as her womb grew.

"You are so beautiful, Molly," he breathed, unable to resist the urge to take her in his arms for a brief kiss. It took all his willpower to break the kiss without going further.

Molly looked a little piqued. "It's Valentine's Day and all I get is a kiss?" she asked with an adorable pout.

"Sweetheart, we are meeting Mycroft at seven. Believe me, you will not miss out." He gave her a lingering kiss to temporarily appease her, then said, "I've bought you some clothes to wear tonight. You can put them on while I'm in the shower."

After showering, Sherlock returned to the bedroom clad only in a towel. Molly was dressed, and she was blowdrying her hair. Observing his entrance through the mirror, she stopped drying her hair and set the blow dryer down.

"You really have this thing about me wearing clothes that I can't wear a bra underneath. I should probably invest in a strapless one."

"Nope," he asserted, stopping in front of her. "You know I've always disliked unclasping your bra. No bra is much more...efficient." He drawled the last word.

"Really?" Molly murmured. "Are you sure we don't have time before we leave to enjoy some efficient bedroom exercise? After all, you don't even have any clothes to take off." She tugged at the towel around his waist, but he stopped her.

"Molly, you are insatiable. We have the whole night ahead of us. Let's get Mycroft safely seen to and engaged, and then we can think about us."

"Oh, very well," she said a little petulantly.

He turned away to get ready, and his naughty wife hooked her hand into the towel so it fell to the floor. Then she gave him a smart swat on the bum. "That's for making me wait, husband," she purred.

"Wench," he growled, turning back and grasping her chin, gripping it and giving her a forceful kiss that left her panting for him. It was to his own detriment of course, because he was just as affected. However, Sherlock was a man with a mission, and he released her to stalk to the wardrobe and get his suit.

He dressed in silence, watching Molly finish blowdrying her hair. She pulled the sides of her hair up to put into a little ponytail and affixed the red bow, leaving the rest of her hair loose. "Happy now?" she said, in a rather cross tone of voice.

His breath caught. She looked even lovelier than he had imagined. Now dressed himself, he took her in his arms. "Don't be cross, baby," he crooned. "I promise you, it's going to be a very good night."

She relaxed her stiffened posture. "Okay Sherlock. I trust you."

"Thank you, darling." This time his kiss was gentle.

Sherlock gave her one of his extra Belstaff coats to keep her warm, and the pair took a taxi to the Ritz, arriving shortly before seven. After asking about the reservation for four, under the name Holmes, the couple was shown to a table. Mycroft and Elizabeth had not yet arrived, but they followed only a couple minutes later.

"Sherlock, Molly," greeted Mycroft, "I'm glad you could join us for dinner."

"Of course. Nice to see you again, Lady Smallwood."

"Oh, do call me Elizabeth, please," she responded. "I only use my title at work."

"It's lovely to see you again, Elizabeth," said Molly warmly, with a smile. This woman, after all, would likely become her sister-in-law.

To Sherlock's surprise, Mycroft informed him that he had paid in advance for the Valentine's Day special - a four course meal, which included a half bottle for each person of Charles Heidsieck Rose Champagne. Each guest also received a Ritz rose in honour of the occasion, after which, acting in one accord, the two men offered their roses to their ladies.

As they waited for their meals, Elizabeth Smallwood said, "Mycroft tells me the two of you are headed to America next week."

"That's right," said Molly, shooting a quick smile at Sherlock. "It appears my husband's fame has extended across the pond, since he busted that drug ring a couple months ago. We had an offer we couldn't refuse from a late-night talk show."

"I assume you will be on the West Coast?"

"Yes. Los Angeles, in fact."

"How lovely. You will definitely have nicer weather while you are there. I went to LA in my younger days. You must visit the Hollywood Walk of Fame."

"I plan on taking Molly there," interposed Sherlock. "We probably won't do as much sight-seeing as one would normally do. My wife tires easily these days."

"That is to be expected," said the older woman, smiling. "I remember how tired I was in my third trimester when I was pregnant with my son."

"You have a son? Does he live in London?" questioned Molly.

"Yes indeed. Michael took over the running of the estate when my husband...passed."

Sherlock knew her husband had committed suicide as a result of Magnussen's interference, but of course, he did not comment on that. Instead he asked, "How old is your son?"

Mycroft cut in then, obviously eager to show that he was aware of Elizabeth's family life, and was not bothered by it. "Michael is thirty. He's a very nice young man. Takes after his mother."

Lady Smallwood coloured slightly. "Thank you Mycroft. I think he quite looks up to you."

The meals arrived and the two couples ate, enjoying the delicious fare. As they ate, a troupe of dancers entertained the guests with demonstrations of the Tango, Rumba and Salsa.

"Oh, they're wonderful," breathed Molly, who was watching raptly, even as she finished eating.

"Are you familiar with those dances?" Sherlock asked his wife.

Molly shook her head. "No, but I can certainly appreciate the beauty of that type of dancing. It's quite sensual, isn't it?"

"That it is," he agreed.

As the dinner progressed, Sherlock could see his brother was growing increasingly nervous. Mycroft drank his champagne, then started on Molly's, which she had given him, obviously being unable to drink alcohol in her condition. She was content to drink water.

By the time the final course was served, Sherlock was feeling restless. The dinner seemed to be taking a very long time, and he really wanted it to be over with, so he could give Molly her surprise.

Finally, after they finished eating, a very flushed Mycroft cleared his throat.

Sherlock and Molly looked at him expectantly, Elizabeth just looked curious.

"So, Elizabeth. I, um ,had an ulterior motive in bringing you here tonight."

Sherlock had never heard his brother sound nervous before.

Then Mycroft dropped to one knee in front of the very surprised Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, I am not a man well acquainted with sentiment, but if my brother could overcome his fears and accept it as a good thing, it seems my views on it may have been in error. We have been together for a year. I told you that I loved you the day after Christmas..."

Here Sherlock and Molly glanced at each other. Their suspicions as to why Mycroft had dashed off from the Holmes family home in Sussex were confirmed.

Mycroft continued, "Well, perhaps I did not end up saying the words, but I did mean the sentiment, and I tried to show you."

He cleared his throat again and produced the emerald ring, holding it towards the shocked woman. "I feel this is the next logical step in our journey. So, Lady Alicia Elizabeth Smallwood, will you marry me?"

 ** _Not a very romantic proposal,_** Sherlock thought, **_but for Mycroft, that was exceeding his normal parameters._**

Instead of saying yes, Elizabeth asked seriously, "Mycroft, are you sure you want to do this? I am ten years older than you, I am past the age of bearing children. Do you not want to consider a younger woman, someone who could give you that?"

Mycroft sighed heavily. "Elizabeth, I have never desired children for myself. Besides, if the inclination strikes to indulge a child, I shall have a niece to spoil soon, and perhaps more nieces or nephews to spoil later. The only thing I know for sure is, I want to grow old with you."

 ** _Better,_** Sherlock reflected. **_Much better._**

Tears came into the older woman's eyes and she nodded. "In that case, if you are really sure, I will marry you."

Mycroft placed the ring on her finger and gave her a chaste kiss. That was Mycroft all over, not one to openly display affection, but Sherlock could see the way his brother relaxed and smiled.

"I think a celebration is in order," he announced, raising his champagne glass. "A toast to you both. I wish you both the same happiness as that shared by my wife and myself." Molly had raised her water glass, and he clinked it with hers, then those of the newly engaged couple.

Soon afterwards, Mycroft said, "Elizabeth, I hope you will be pleased to know I have booked us a room for the night. Are you ready to leave the restaurant?"

"Thank you," answered Elizabeth. "That was very thoughtful."

The two women said their farewells, while Mycroft said to Sherlock, "Thank you, brother mine. I'm not certain I would ever have come to this point if I had not seen the man you have become. What are you going to do for the rest of the evening?"

Sherlock looked over at his wife, who was still engaged in conversation with Elizabeth, and apparently admiring the emerald ring, then showing off her own. "Actually," he said in a low voice to his brother, "I have reserved the sane suite Molly and I used for our wedding night."

"Really? I imagine a room like that would have been booked months ago."

"It was booked months ago, in this case. I booked it before we got married."

"My brother, the romantic. I still can't believe you made it to your wedding night a virgin."

Sherlock groaned. "This again Mycroft? It's getting old. Besides, what does it matter. I'm no virgin anymore, and I assure you, my wife and I have been making up for lost time."

"Making up for lost time?" inquired Molly, who had just come to stand beside Sherlock.

"Never mind, love. Say goodbye to my brother, and we can take a look out the window. You wouldn't even know this is a revolving restaurant. Let's take a look at the view."

"Bye, Mycroft," said Molly obediently, kissing her brother-in-law's cheek. "Thank you for dinner."

You're most welcome," he replied, before departing with his new fiancée.

Sherlock led Molly towards the huge windows that overlooked St. James. As they walked, Molly confided to her husband, "I like Elizabeth's ring, but I'm glad you chose mine, especially the fact that it's a heart."

"That is why I chose it, my darling," he said, looking at the woman who had claimed his heart, as she slipped her hand in his.

They reached the windows and looked out, seeing the night skyline change slowly in front of them. Then Molly looked up at Sherlock. "Thank you for tonight, for suggesting this place. I didn't even think about the restaurant when we stayed here on our wedding night, and of course we left for our honeymoon later the next morning."

"Are you ready to go?"

"I'm ready." She smiled.

They took the lift downstairs. When Molly turned towards the exit, Sherlock said, "Not yet."

He went to the registration desk and spoke to the woman on duty. "I have a reservation for tonight. Sherlock Holmes."

He looked over at Molly, who looked astonished.

"Oh, I recognize you, Mr. Holmes! I hope you and your wife will enjoy your stay here. Let me just get you two key cards."

The woman checked on her computer to find the room, then produced cards for the couple.

"Thank you," said the sleuth, taking the cards and putting them into his pocket.

Molly slipped her hand into his and said softly, as they made their way to the lift, "I can't believe you planned this! But I have work tomorrow."

They stepped into the lift as Sherlock answered, "No, you don't. I arranged it with Mike for you to have the day off."

Her hand tightened on his, and they remained silent till they reached their floor, and they were at the door to their room. He opened it with the key card and gestured for Molly to precede him.

"Sherlock," she gasped, "this is the same room, isn't it?"

"Indeed, my love," he said, closing the door behind him. "Welcome to our re-creation of our wedding night - not a re-write, but an addition." He dropped the two coats he had been carrying onto a chair and turned to her.

Very satisfyingly, Molly let the two roses she had been carrying slide to the floor, as she threw her arms around him, and her lips met his in a wild, passionate kiss that immediately stoked the embers within him into flame. Oh, he was really going to enjoy this, he knew it already.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So Mycroft is an engaged man. I hope you found his proposal to be believable.

The London Ritz has a special night for couples on Valentine's Day, which is why the details of their dinner are so specific. It is on the website. It does indeed have a revolving restaurant.

Did you like the scene with Molly pouting and smacking Sherlock's bum because he wouldn't give her what she wanted? Wasn't she naughty?

What do you think of Sherlock's surprise? What do you think about them re-creating the wedding night? Are you looking forward to what comes next?

Your feedback is greatly appreciated.

Updated for corrections and better flow 6/27/18


	3. Act One: Entrée

Molly couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the room that held such a special memory for Sherlock and herself.

After their ardent kiss, she told him, "I'm so sorry about smacking your bum earlier. It was completely out of line."

Sherlock smiled. "It was perhaps a little harder than I would have liked, but still not as bad as those stinging slaps you gave me when I was after Magnussen." He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully, as if remembering that time. "Of course," he added slyly, "I'm not averse to a little love tap now and then."

Molly blushed and giggled. "I'll bear that in mind," she told him, as she cheekily reached around his bum and gave it a little pinch.

"Hey!" he complained. "I said love tap, not pinch!"

"But you have such a lovely, tight bum made for pinching and squeezing," she pointed out, smirking.

"I think we need to get off the subject of my arse and onto the subject of why we are here."

"Fine. This night was your idea, so I'll let you lead."

"Speaking of leading, why don't we start with a dance, like we did last time?" he suggested, pulling out his phone. "I hope you won't be disappointed, but I decided to go with a different one this time." He turned up the volume, pressed the play button and held out his arms after depositing the phone onto the king-sized bed.

Molly walked into his embrace and held him, then let out a gasp of surprise as she recognized the music. Her arms were clasped about Sherlock's neck, and his were around her waist as they "danced,"which was more like shuffled around the room. Well, his arms weren't quite all the way around her waist , due to her baby bump, but close. She looked into his eyes. "That's why you had me wear red!"

"Yes, sweetheart," he affirmed. "It isn't like you could actually wear your wedding dress right now anyway in your current state, although one day, maybe we could re-create our wedding ceremony with it and read our vows to each other again."

Molly was about to respond, when her husband began to sing along with the lyrics.

She loved to hear his rich baritone voice translated into a singing voice. He put his cheek against hers, singing in her ear,

"The lady in red is dancing with me, cheek to cheek.

There's nobody here, it's just you and me -

It's where I wanna be."

He continued on, singing the entire song, moving his hands along her back as he sang the romantic lyrics. At the conclusion of the song, Sherlock took her hand and twirled her around.

"Oh, Sherlock," she said, as tears filled her eyes, "that was so beautiful. Thank you, my darling."

"No tears, sweetheart," he told her, brushing away a stray tear. "That isn't supposed to happen until Act Two."

Molly sniffled. "I teared up after the dance last time too. In fact I start crying every time we dance to "A Thousand Years."

"True enough, my darling, emotional wife."

"I can't help it. I mean, I've always been like that, but this pregnancy has me crying almost every day. Every time I think about the fact that our baby will be arriving in around two and a half months, it makes me want to cry for joy."

"Don't start talking about Victoria right now or you'll get me too distracted." He rubbed his wife's belly affectionately. "No offense, little one. But I want your mummy to be thinking of me right now."

Molly felt movement in her abdomen. "Did you feel that?" she asked. "She loves the sound of your voice. She responds to it."

"I felt her," he assured her. "Right now, I'd rather feel you." He moved as if to kiss her, but Molly halted him.

"Wait. I didn't get to tell you my thoughts on saying our vows to each other again, because I didn't want to interrupt your lovely singing. I was thinking, maybe we could do that, like a little private vow renewal on our one-year wedding anniversary. I'd have to hire a crinoline, but you already own your wedding suit, so that part would be easy. By that time, Victoria will be here and hopefully by then I'll have my figure back."

"Mmmm," he murmured, moving his hands to Molly's shoulders. He helped her shrug out of the little cropped jacket, then began to massage her shoulders gently.

She hummed with pleasure at his touch, then asked, "When did you book this room?"

He stopped massaging and looked into her eyes. "I know we don't usually keep secrets from one another, but I've been carrying this one around for a long time. I booked it at the same time as I booked our wedding night, two weeks after we got engaged. That happened to be the night where you had a bit too much to drink with your friends and then were willing to throw away all your long held values and make love to me."

Molly flushed at the memory. "Not my best moment, but you were a gentleman and refused to compromise me. That meant so much to me. But wow, I can't believe you were thinking about Valentine's Day over eight months ago!"

"Darling, I dreamed about our future together all the time, all the milestones I couldn't wait to share with you. Funnily enough, I remember thinking that day and wondering whether you'd be pregnant by Valentine's Day. At that point though I wasn't really expecting you to be quite as far along as you are."

Molly slipped her hands around his waist. "It isn't like being pregnant has slowed us down at all."

He grinned. "Not slowed us down, but we are definitely having to make certain adjustments to our...positions when we make love."

Molly grinned at him, coquettishly. "Don't even try to tell me you don't like it when I'm the one dictating things due to said...positions."

"Oh, my naughty little angel, you do tempt me so," he murmured, bending to kiss her neck.

This seemed to have become his favourite saying lately, ever since he had read her Barbara Cartland novel called "A Very Naughty Angel," and she loved it when he called her that. It made her seem sweet, yet a little wicked at the same time.

He lifted his lips from her neck and said, "Can we cease with conversation now, and get on with it? I'd really like to kiss my wife, my bride."

"Uh, hold that thought," she told him. "The loo is calling my name. Blame Victoria for it." She dashed to the bathroom, then returned a couple minutes later.

Sherlock still stood where she had left him, with a slight smile on his face. "I have a feeling you are going to have to do that in between the first and second time we make love, which you did not do on our wedding night," he said.

 ** _Oh, he literally wants to actually do everything the same way as our wedding night,_** thought Molly, as her heart began to pound and stomach clenched. **_That means twice in the bed, then again after a shared bath._**

"I see you are beginning to comprehend, my love," he said seductively, reaching for her. "I fully intend to have my way with you three times...at least."

Molly gulped as the blood started rushing in her ears. "Uh, we should get started then," she said faintly.

"I intend to," he whispered, just before his mouth came down on hers and he began to kiss her, a kiss that began softly, but then deepened, becoming more urgent, as their desire and need for each other increased.

Molly found she was gasping for air by the time he lifted his head. "Sherlock," she managed to say with difficulty. "I think, can we just skip all the in-between stuff and make love already? We can go slow the second time."

He groaned in response and fumbled at her tights, as she kicked off her shoes. She was trying to unbutton his jacket, then his shirt, and they kept getting in each other's way.

Finally, he said, "Stop! Let me undress you and then you can help me get out of this damned constricting suit."

His face was as flushed as hers. Molly allowed him to divest her of her dress and knickers, then proceeded to help him divest himself of his clothes too, sucking in a breath when she saw the unmistakable evidence that he was ready to make love to her immediately, even as she was ready for him.

He lifted her into his arms, kissing her as he strode to the bed, keeping his lips on hers, even as he laid her down upon it.

His fingers touched her, making her whimper her need, and then he was with her, as they became one flesh in the Biblical sense, exulting in the love they had been blessed with, allowing themselves to be swept away by the need that consumed them so completely. They took what the other gave and soared together until they were both spent and breathing raggedly, recovering from their passionate union.

Molly pulled her Sherlock's head down to cradle it on her chest, as slowly, their breathing returned to normal.

After some time, he said, "Well, that did not go quite as planned. I was planning on doing things exactly the same way." He gently kissed the curve of her breast, and she stroked his cheek.

"I don't mind at all the way we deviated from your plan. That was, if I may be so bold, bloody fantastic!"

Sherlock looked up at her and smirked. "For you to use the word 'bloody' means I apparently did quite well."

"Oh, more than well, my love. You were magnificent!"

"Now you are just borrowing the line I told you about, that Lord Sherlock said to his wife in that dream I had a few months back." He idly stroked her belly as he spoke, reminding Molly about the baby they had created shortly before that dream of his. **_That night, the one of his dream, had been a rather passionate one as well,_** she recalled.

She had come home from nightshift and he had woken mid-dream, initiating quite a fiery encounter. After they had slept, they had made love again. Finally, after he had finished recounting the dream, he had gone on to re-create it as he remembered it. That had been quite an erotic dream and entailed making love twice more. Come to think of it, that was the first time they had done a re-creation.

"Our first re-creation," she said now.

Sherlock grinned up at her. "Perhaps, subconsciously, that is how we got started with this re-creating business - re-creating the scenes from those fantasy dreams."

Molly giggled. "I guess so. Those Barbara Cartland stories sure have sparked some good dreams. I still like the real-life ones best though, from our true experiences."

"You know," Sherlock remarked, "there is still one re-creation we need to do. Once we get back from America, I think we should do it."

"The phone call."

"Yes. The phone call. I want to do that face-to-face. Last time you couldn't see me, but I could see you."

"Sherlock, I'm not sure I can do that one."

Her husband lifted his head and looked at her in surprise. "Why? Is it too painful a memory for you?"

"No. It was painful at the time. Not afterwards though, when I knew you meant it when you said you loved me. I don't have a mind palace like you do. I don't recall the entire conversation. I remember saying I was having a bad day, and that I wasn't an experiment, but not every detail."

She saw Sherlock sigh with relief. "That is easily remedied, my love. Every detail of that conversation is burned in my memory, every emotion I felt, as I spoke to you. It was the turning point for me, and I have gone over it in my mind a hundred times or more."

"That's all well and good for you, mister, but that doesn't really help my lack of perfect recall," Molly pointed out, touching his uplifted face lovingly.

"Have you ever participated in a play, or a musical?" Sherlock asked unexpectedly.

Moly was discombobulated at the sudden turn of conversation. "Of course, we did church plays at Christmas time sometimes, and I sang in a couple of musicals at uni. But what does me doing plays or musicals have to do with this? I don't see a connection."

"You sang in musicals?"

"Sherlock, don't get distracted. I'll tell you about that some other time. You got started on this subject. How is it relevant to re-creating the phone call?"

"Sweetheart, you might not have a mind palace, but you're a very intelligent woman. Think for a minute. I remember it perfectly, you don't..."

Molly thought, then it came to her. "Oh..." she said slowly. "You are going to write out the script for it, as if it were a play, and have me memorise my lines, aren't you?"

"Precisely, my clever Molly, my beautiful wife. When we get home tomorrow, I will write out the entire scene. I'll leave it up to you to try and remember how you were feeling, even though I know how you looked. You can take the script with us to America and practice it. When we get back, we will re-enact it, face to face."

"I'd really like that. Maybe I will use the long plane ride to go through it."

Sherlock moved his body upwards, so he could take her face in his hands and kiss her, then pulled her body so her head this time rested on his shoulder.

"Now, my darling, I think we need some sleep. We still have hours ahead of us and I need to get my stamina back if I am to perform in the second Act correctly."

Molly giggled. "Way to use innuendo, sweetheart."

Her husband gave her an innocent look. "I have no idea what you mean. If I was using innuendo, I would have paused and said 'if I am to...perform...in the Second Act correctly.'"

She giggled again. "I think I shall have to call you my naughty dark angel, Sherlock."

"Moriarty did say I was on the side if the angels, although I told him to not think for a second that I was one."

"Even then, you were his polar opposite. You always stood for what was right and moral, my darling husband. You always had a conscience. I do not believe you were ever truly a sociopath. You just labelled yourself that way because you didn't understand your disconnection from emotions, due to you repressing them."

"Intriguing thought. Perhaps you should have been a therapist, rather than a pathologist."

Molly laughed. "I don't know. I think I have just always been able to see you, the true man beneath those layers, and I waited for you to blossom."

"So now I'm a flower? This conversation is getting just too silly. Let's get some sleep." He reached behind him to turn off the lamp, pulled the bedcovers up and onto them, then groped in the sudden darkness and linked the fingers of one hand with Molly's. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

"Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Sherlock, my darling husband."

They slept, with hands entwined, at least for awhile.

* * *

 **Author's note** : I hope you enjoyed the pure romance of Sherlock playing the song for Molly. What do you think about him wanting to re-create their wedding night?

Isn't Molly lucky to get to pinch/squeeze his bum? LOL

Did you enjoy Act One?

By the way, entrée in this case is like an appetizer in America. The main course is what Americans call entrée. Doesn't really make sense because the French term translated means to enter, begin.

And yes, there will be an "I love you" scene re-creation.

If you want to know more about Sherlock's dream, it is another one of my stories, called "Forced to Marry."

Updated for corrections and better flow 6/27/18


	4. Act Two - Main Course

Sherlock opened his eyes. He had set his internal alarm clock for 3AM. Without releasing his hold too much on his sleeping wife, he craned his neck to look behind him at the digital clock on the bedside table. His internal alarm had not let him down. It was pretty close. Only three minutes after three.

He smiled - he was especially looking forward to the second act, the "main course," as he liked to think of it. On their wedding night, he had been a little unsure, lacking, as he said, the practical experience. With six months under his belt though, he knew Molly's body so well, and this was the act where he would make her cry, not from sadness, but from joy.

Even at the thought of what was to come, he could feel the usual desire beginning to stir within him. Sherlock removed the arm that had been protectively resting over Mollly's distended belly and reached over to turn on the lamp. They always made love with the lights on, wanting to see each other, glory in each other. Turning back to her, he began to gently press soft kisses onto Molly's neck, then her shoulders, until she moved sleepily and opened her eyes, shifting herself so she was on her back.

"Hi," she murmured sleepily, through half closed eyes. "Are we proceeding to the main course now?"

Sherlock pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Mhm, Act 2 is about to begin, but I will allow you a short intermission to use the loo."

She chuckled. "As you mentioned earlier, I didn't need one on the wedding night, but you're right. I definitely need one now, and I'd hate to have to stop midway through the Act to use the toilet." She grinned at him and slid out of bed.

Sherlock watched her appreciatively as she made her way to the bathroom. He loved those glimpses of her beautifully pregnant body. There had been that shyness on their first night, as they viewed each other's bodies completely unclothed for the first time. It had been awkward, but still beautiful. After six months of marriage, the shyness was no longer there, but the emotions were even more powerful, more intense.

Sherlock tugged the covers towards the bottom of the bed in preparation, as he waited for Molly's return. Then he waited, laying on his side, head supported by his elbow.

When Molly returned to him, she flashed a wicked grin and said, "I perceive, Mr. Holmes, you are almost ready for the main event - are you going to be able to take things slowly this time?"

He gave her a hooded gaze. "As I distinctly recall, Mrs. Holmes, you were the one who insisted on proceeding precipitously to the main event last time, not me. I was quite prepared to go the distance. I fully intend to enjoy the main course slowly. Now get over here so we can begin. I am feeling the need to thoroughly kiss my wife."

She complied, climbing onto the bed and scooting towards him until her belly met his. He reached an arm around her head to draw her to him, and his lips met hers. He kissed her - long, languid kisses, taking his time, luxuriating in their softness. **_How was it that her lips always tasted so sweet?_**

Removing his hand from behind her head, he gently pushed her shoulder, indicating that she was to lay on her back, as he continued to kiss her. His right hand cradled Molly's neck, even as his left hand began to wander, reaching from shoulder to breast, massaging the rounded curve gently, and flicking the hardened peak.

She moaned, then turned her face slightly to say, "Be gentle, love. That area is becoming particulaly sensitive, to the point where it sometimes hurts."

"I'm sorry sweetheart, perhaps I should use my mouth instead?" He dipped his head to gently lick the area, and she gasped, then panted, "B...better."

Sherlock moved to the other breast, to accord it the same homage, even as his wandering hand began to travel once again, circling the rounded swell of her belly, before moving further south, to the most intimate area. As his hand delicately explored, he lifted his head to watch his wife, seeing the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

He kissed her again, then said huskily in her ear, "I love your scent when you are responding to me. It...turns me on even more. And the best part, my love...you taste as good as you smell."

His words had the desired effect, as Molly began to pant.

Sherlock proceeded to prove his words, ably demonstrating how far he had come in six months, how well he knew every intimate place of her body, until she was trembling and writhing from his ministrations, clutching at his curls. He felt her hands tighten in his hair, even as she shuddered and cried out. And then the tears came, as they so often did when he evoked such powerful sensations.

He slid back upwards, wiping one of those tears. "I'll be right back."

Sherlock went into the bathroom to clean himself up, then returned and kissed away the rest of his wife's tears.

"Oh Sherlock, you rock my world."

"I know," he said smugly. When he was able to make Molly cry that way, it was almost as intense for him as the act of love itself. She was so responsive to him, and he to her.

"My turn to rock your world," she said now, and it was his turn to be treated to her now rather expert ministrations. Oh, she too had learned a lot in six months. He groaned, very much enjoying what she was doing , but only for awhile. He needed her, all of her.

"Enough," he finally commanded. "I need you, Molly. I need to make love to you."

She opened for him in invitation and he united with her, their bodies and hearts joining in a practiced rhythm, meeting and separating in a joyful union. It was always passionate, always fulfilling, and above all, blessed by God. The freedom they felt from being safe with each other, secure in their shared love, in a covenant that allowed them to express themselves intimately in the most satisfying way, was incredible.

Afterwards, as they basked in the afterglow of their shared passion, Sherlock held Molly against him, rubbing her belly as he often did. "Well,my darling - do you think Act 2 was in improvement on Act 1?"

Molly sighed contentedly. "Every Act with you is perfect, but I'd have to say, Act 2 was bloody brilliant!"

Sherlock chuckled. "Oh, my sweet wife. How am I going to top this with Act 3?"

"I don't think you can, but perhaps you can match it." She smirked at him.

His one arm tightened about her, lifting her shoulders so he could kiss her before saying, 'There's only one thing I miss at the moment."

She looked at him inquiringly. "I don't understand. I thought it was perfect."

"It was, almost. My only regret is that I can't kiss you right now while we are making love. Your belly gets in the way. I love kissing you, feeling your sweet lips on mine as we move together."

"I miss that too. I guess we need to explore some more positions so we can rectify that."

"Mmm." He kissed her neck, then claimed her lips again briefly before saying. "We definitely must do that, but for now, I think we need another intermission before Act 3. Do you need the loo before wee sleep?"

"Is there any doubt?" She got up from the bed and headed once more to the bathroom as Sherlock chuckled. While she was gone, he pulled the bed covers up once more.

Molly returned and slid under them, while he turned off the lamp. Then they slept again. They needed some time to prepare for the final Act.

* * *

 **Author's note:** This chapter was rather more steamy than usual. I hope I still portrayed it in a tasteful way that does not offend my readers. As always, I try to show the joy these two feel in their relationship, one of absolute trust and commitment. I do try to insert a lot of playful banter into it as well.

Updat4d for errors and better flow 6/27/18


	5. The Final Act - Dessert

Molly opened her eyes to the sound of water running. She stretched and sat up. Slipping out of bed, she padded silently to the bathroom, where Sherlock was on his knees in front of the tub, and slid her hands around his waist from behind as best she could, with the baby bump that insisted on getting in the way.

"Molly," he breathed, not turning around, as she began to pepper his poor, scarred back with soft kisses. Every time she saw those scars, her stomach tightened as she thought of the torture he had endured years earlier.

He turned off the water, apparently satisfied with the water level and the bubbles, then twisted to face her. "I was going to let you sleep, and then carry you into the tub."

"I have to use the loo anyway first."

Sherlock indicated the toilet. "Go ahead. It's right there."

Molly glared at him. "You know I know perfectly well where it is, I used it already. I am not quite ready to sit on the toilet in front of you yet."

Her husband grinned cheekily. "I wouldn't care if you were in the room when I was using the toilet."

"That's because you men are used to doing it in public toilets around other men." She shuddered at the thought. "We woman like our privacy. Now GO!" she ordered.

Sherlock chuckled and complied, closing the door behind him.

Feeling much better after using the toilet, Molly slid into the tub and called, "You can come in now."

Sherlock opened the door and frowned. "You were supposed to let me carry you and put you in the tub, the way I did on our wedding night."

"Sherlock, I was already in here. Why would I have returned to the bed, just so you could carry me back in here?"

He huffed. "Because it's more romantic that way."

Molly giggled. "Well, it's too late now, so I suppose you had best join me, before the water gets cold."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Scoot over so I can get behind you."

She did so, and Sherlock stepped into the bath, sinking down and sliding his legs on either side of her.

Molly sighed contentedly and leaned back as Sherlock slid his arms around her, resting his hands on her belly.

She could have sat there for some time, but Sherlock's hands started to rub her belly gently, and he ordered, "Grab that flannel so I can wash you."

She leaned forward and snagged it from the edge of the tub, dropping it onto her belly.

He picked it up and began to circle her belly, taking special care around the site of her belly button, which seemed to be popping out more with each day that passed. He paused a moment. "She kicked me!"

Molly laughed. "I don't think so. Keep your hand there for a minute."

"Why?"

"Just do it." Molly grabbed Sherlock's hand and placed it on her abdomen.

"She did it again." A few seconds later, "and again. What on earth is going on?"

"Sweetheart, do you remember our ultrasound, what the doctor said, when she was moving?"

"He said she had the hiccups. Ohhhhhh," he drew out the word slowly. "Is that what I'm feeling?"

"Yes. For several days now I've noticed that little pulsing sensation. It usually lasts a couple minutes." Molly turned to look at Sherlock, whose eyes were round with wonder.

"That's...extraordinary," he said at last. He kept his hand on the same spot until the faint pulsing subsided. "Oh, Molly. She's really in there, isn't' she? Growing, getting ready to meet the world."

There was a note of awe in his voice, and she turned to kiss the cheek of the man she loved. "Yes, she is."

Sherlock tilted his head so he could offer her a sweet kiss on the lips, then said. "Sorry, I got distracted. Last time we didn't have a baby making herself known when I was trying to seductively wash your body."

Molly giggled. "Sometimes you just have to roll with it."

"That doesn't mean we can't do what I planned," he murmured in his rich baritone, which never ceased to thrill her.

Taking up the flannel once more, Sherlock resumed washing her, lifting one of her arms out of the water and wiping gently from wrist to armpit, whereupon she shrieked with laughter as he delicately moved the cloth in a circle. She was extremely ticklish there.

"Molly, Molly, you are going to wake the people in the next room. It's only five in the morning," he warned.

"You know I'm deathly ticklish under my arms, Sherlock."

"Fine." He took Molly's other arm and repeated the process, eliciting another shriek of laughter when he reached the other armpit. "Alright, torture over." He kissed her neck. "Now for my favourite part." The detective proceeded to wash her breasts gently, taking care not to brush the cloth over her sensitive nipples, which Molly was rather grateful for.

He washed her back, then stopped and dropped the flannel. "I can't reach your legs from this angle, so let's turn around and you can wash me now," he said, placing a delicate kiss against her neck.

Molly slid to the other end of the tub, as Sherlock turned too, facing away from her. Molly took up the discarded flannel and used it to gently wipe Sherlock's back, then slid her arms beneath his to wash his chest from behind.

Sherlock shuddered as she moved the flannel along the planes of his pectorals, teasing at his belly button. She was fascinated to note that his nipples were rather taut and she flicked them experimentally.

He groaned a little and pulled her hands away. She could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, and realized , somewhat to her own surprise, that her own chest was doing the same. Apparently this exercise was having the desired effect.

Deciding to test that theory, Molly reached her hands down Sherlock's body, sliding south, past his navel and continuing until she found her answer and her breath caught.

"Are you having fun, , Molly?" he rasped, and Molly's stomach clenched. All of a sudden she was finding it very difficult to breathe. The blood started to pound in her ears. Just the feel of him, knowing she was the one who evoked such a response was very heady, and her own body responded. "I...I think we need to be done with the bath now," she managed.

"I agree," said Sherlock, turning to face her and scooping her into his arms, before stepping out of the tub. He took a towel and wrapped it around her, before taking one for himself.

Molly patted her body down with the towel, watching Sherlock in amusement. A certain part of his anatomy was not cooperating very well as he tried to dry his own body.

"Stop it, Molly," he growled, frowning at her.

"Well, if you would just hurry up, I think we could take care of your...problem," she purred in her most seductive tone.

"Ah, to hell with drying my body. Come here, you exceptionally naughty little angel," he said, dropping the offending towel and picking his wife up once more, then striding towards the bed. He laid her upon it, but instead of proceeding straight to the "main event," as she liked to refer to it, he lay beside her.

Molly pouted. "Aren't you going to make love to me? You know you want to."

Sherlock raked a hand through his hair. "God knows I want nothing more, but there is something I need to do first."

Molly was completely surprised by what happened next. Sherlock walked over to his Belstaff and pulled something out of the pocket, a velvet box.

Molly sat up and he thrust it at her. "I meant to give this to you earlier, but well, you have this habit of distracting me."

"Sherlock, you have already made this night so special. You didn't need to get me anything."

"I wanted to, darling. Open it."

Molly opened the lid and saw within a necklace with four hearts of different colour and sizes hanging from the chain. The first was a small heart, with the slightest hint of pink. By the fourth one, the largest heart was a vibrant pink colour.

"I know you love your cross necklace, but I thought maybe you'd wear this one every now and then."

"It's beautiful. I love it, thank you Sherlock," she breathed. He was so thoughtful, so caring in every way. "Would you help me get my other necklace off and put the new one on?"

"Of course." He slid her hair to the side, kissing her neck briefly, then unclasped her cross necklace, replacing it with the heart one. He then returned the box, now containing the cross necklace, back into his Belstaff pocket, and climbed back onto the bed.

Molly touched her new necklace and smiled at him. He slid so that he was next to her, grasped her shoulders, then pulled her backwards onto the bed again. His lips hovered tantalizingly, only inches from her own.

She pulled his head down the rest of the way, sliding her hand into his ebony curls and kissed him, showing her appreciation with her lips.

They kissed for some time, savouring the taste and feel of each other, allowing the flame of passion to reignite within them once more.

Sherlock nudged Molly, and she slid onto her side, feeling him spoon against her, even as she turned her neck so they could still kiss as he leaned over her. His hand began to caress her body, cupping one breast and squeezing it gently, then doing the same to the other. He rested his hand on her abdomen, circling it gently, before moving ever so slowly, tantalizingly downwards, touching, exploring, teasing.

His body began to move against hers in invitation and Molly whimpered, wanting him, needing him. "Please, Sherlock," she begged, "please!"

And then he was with her, filling her, completing her. Their bodies moved together, tuning like a delicate instrument. They played the music of love, reaching a joyful crescendo, before subsiding into gentle waves of spent passion.

Sherlock reached down to pull the covers over them, then pulled her against his body, encircling her with his warmth. "This wasn't quite the scenario I had planned," he murmured.

"Oh, darling, it was never going to be the same anyway. Our wedding night was perfect, because it was the first time for both of us, but we spent a lot of time learning about each other's bodies. For months now, we've continued to explore and experiment."

"I do love experimenting with you," replied Sherlock, rubbing her belly.

"I know, our favourite experiment. I can't wait for the results. Will she have your eyes or mine? Will her hair be curly or dead straight? I want her to have your eyes and hair, Sherlock."

"Well that wouldn't be fair. I'd like her to possess traits of her mother."

"Well, at least if she looks like you, people will be in no doubt that she is yours."

Sherlock laughed. "Molly, that's the silliest thing I've ever heard. Who else, pray tell, could have fathered your child? Did you sneak away from our bedroom during the honeymoon to be with one of those actors in a Shakespeare play?"

Molly giggled. "I know, I'm silly. But I just want everyone to know she's yours, including those fans of yours in America. With all the fan mail you've been receiving lately, I'm feeling a bit territorial."

"I suppose you are referring to the little "gifts" I've been receiving, like those knickers from that woman in New Mexico?"

"Exactly. I'm warning you right now Sherlock. When we do that interview next week, make no mistake - I'm going to make sure all those fans know you are mine. They can look, but not touch."

"Possessive much?" He nibbled at her earlobe.

"You'd better believe it. Now quit nibbling my earlobe or you are going to want round number four. Besides, I need the loo."

Sherlock pouted as she got out of bed and went to the bathroom. When she returned, she looked at Sherlock suspiciously. He was looking entirely too innocent.

"What?" she demanded, getting back under the covers.

"I was just thinking how hot you look, naked and pregnant."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Let's see if you still feel that way in a few weeks when I have swollen feet and am as big as a house."

"Hasn't stopped me yet, and you are already the size of a small flat."

She glared. "You are having entirely too many Bit Not Good episodes lately, Sherlock Holmes."

He pounced on her, giving her a lingering kiss, before saying. "You wouldn't have me any other way."

And truth be told, he was right. That was her Sherlock, incorrigible , adorable and completely insatiable.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Did you enjoy the bath? What did you think about the using the toilet in front of each other discussion?

What did you think of the necklace? If it sounds real, that is because it is. My husband gave it to me on Valentine's Day several years ago. I could not write this stuff if my husband wasn't like my Sherlock. I draw from experience rather than fantasy and try to put in real types of conversations - like the toilet thing.

As a reader, what was your favorite chapter and why? Did you have a favorite moment? If you have read all five chapters and not left any feedback, please consider at least leaving one review in support of my writing. It will brighten my day as I hope I have done for yours.

Updated for corrections and better flow 6/27/18


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